Once Trapped

And now she was nowhere in sight.

That girl, Riley thought.

She wasn’t worried about missing their flight. They had plenty of time before boarding. But she had hoped to take things slow and easy after such a hard day. She’d planned for them to go on through security, find their gate, and then find a nice place to eat.

Riley sighed with discouragement.

Even after Jilly’s courageous actions in the courtroom, Riley couldn’t help but be disappointed by this new display of immaturity.

She knew that if she went searching for Jilly in the big terminal, they’d probably go on missing each other time and time again. She looked for a place to sit and wait for Jilly to come back, which she surely would do sooner or later.

But as Riley gazed around the big, open terminal building, she caught a glimpse of Jilly going through one of the glass doors that led outside.

Or at least she thought it was Jilly—it was hard to be sure from where Riley was standing.

And who was that woman that the girl seemed to be with?

It looked like Barbara Long, Albert Scarlatti’s fiancée.

But the two people disappeared quickly among the travelers milling about outside.

Riley felt a tingle of apprehension. Had her eyes been playing tricks on her?

No, she was now pretty sure of what she’d seen.

But what was going on? Why would Jilly be going anywhere with that woman?

Riley got moving. She knew there was no time to make sense of this. Breaking into a trot, she instinctively reached under her lightweight jacket and patted the gun she wore in her shoulder holster.

She was stopped by a uniformed security guard who stepped in front of her.

He spoke in a calm, professional voice. “Are you drawing a weapon, ma’am?”

Riley let out a groan of frustration.

She said, “Sir, I don’t have time for this.”

She could tell by the guard’s expression that she’d only confirmed his suspicion.

He drew his own weapon and moved toward her. Out of the corner of her eye, Riley saw that another guard had spotted the activity and was also approaching.

“Let me by,” Riley snapped, showing both of her hands. “I’m an FBI agent.”

The guard with the gun didn’t reply. Riley guessed that he didn’t believe her. And she knew he was trained not to believe her. He was just doing his job.

The second guard looked like he was now about to frisk her.

Riley was losing precious time. Given her superior training, she calculated that she could probably disarm the guard with the gun before he could fire. But the last thing she needed right now was to get into a needless hassle with a pair of well-meaning security guards.

Forcing herself to stand still, she said, “Look, just let me show you my ID.”

The two guards glanced at each other warily.

“OK,” the guard with the gun said. “But slowly.”

Riley carefully pulled out her badge and showed it to them.

Their mouths dropped open.

“I’m in a hurry,” Riley said.

The guard standing in front of her nodded and holstered his gun.

Gratefully, she broke into a run across the terminal and dashed through the glass doors to the outside.

Riley looked all around. Neither Jilly nor the woman were anywhere in sight.

But then she spotted her daughter’s face in the back window of an SUV. Jilly looked alarmed, and her hands were pressing against the glass.

Even worse, the vehicle was starting to pull away.

Riley broke into a desperate run.

Luckily, the SUV bounced to a halt. A vehicle ahead of it had stopped for pedestrians and the SUV was trapped behind it.

Riley reached the driver’s side before the SUV could pull away again.

And there was Albert Scarlatti in the driver’s seat.

She pulled out her gun and pointed it through the window, directly at his head.

“It’s over, Scarlatti,” she yelled at the top of her lungs.

But before she knew it, Scarlatti swung his door open, slamming it into her. The gun fell out of her hand and clattered to the pavement.

Riley was furious now—not just at Scarlatti, but at herself for misjudging the distance between herself and the door. For once she’d let her panic get the best of her.

But she recovered her wits in a split-second.

This man was not going to get away with Jilly.

Before Scarlatti could slam the door shut again, Riley jammed her arm inside to block it. Although the door hit her arm painfully, it couldn’t close.

Riley yanked the door wide open and saw that Scarlatti hadn’t bothered to fasten his seat belt.

She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him, cursing and struggling, out of the car.

He was a big man, and stronger than she’d expected. He pulled loose from her and raised his fist to punch her in the face. But Riley was faster. She hit him hard in the solar plexus and heard the wind burst out of his lungs as he buckled forward. Then she hit him in the back of the head.